For Coco Martin, the holidays are not about excess—they are about pause. In a life ruled by call times, scripts, and responsibility, only a handful of dates are non-negotiable: 24, 25, and 26 December, and the brief passage from 31 December to 01 January. On those days, the country’s most visible primetime face steps away from the spotlight and returns to something deeply familiar: family, food, and gratitude.
At home, Coco takes charge of the kitchen. Cooking is not a performance for him, but a ritual that reconnects him to where he came from. He gravitates toward classic Filipino dishes—kare-kare and kaldereta—meals rooted in patience and care rather than extravagance. As he once explained, “Hindi ako gaanong mahilig sa mga extravagant na pagkain na sobra-sobra. Kasi nga, galing ako sa hirap, eh.”
(“I am not really fond of overly extravagant food. I came from hardship.”)
In those quiet moments of preparation, the noise of fame dissolves, replaced by the simplicity he grew up with.
Gift-giving, too, follows a different rhythm in Coco’s world. He and Julia Montes don’t wait for holidays to express affection. If one of them comes across something meaningful for the other, they give it—no calendar required. When Christmas arrives, their focus shifts outward, toward their families. It’s a shared instinct shaped by parallel childhoods.
“Feeling namin iisa na kami. ’Yung para bang laging pamilya ang iniisip namin dahil pareho kami lumaki sa lola at pareho kami broken family. Laging ang [goal] namin, bumawi at kung paano namin mapapasaya ’yung pamilya namin,” Coco shared.
(“We feel like we are already one. It is as if we always think of family because we both grew up with our grandmothers and came from broken families. Our goal has always been to give back and find ways to make our families happy.”)
Asked what he plans to give himself, he finds the question almost unnecessary. He considers himself already over-answered by grace. “Sa sampung hiniling ko sa Diyos, lagpas 15 ang binigay niya.”
(“Out of the ten things I asked from God, He gave me more than fifteen.”)
With that sense of abundance, resolutions feel redundant. Contentment, for him, is already here.
Even as the year winds down, Coco’s future is already in motion. New films await, alongside the relentless pace of FPJ’s Batang Quiapo. The workload is heavy, but he treats it as a privilege long earned. His discipline—waking before dawn, staying energized through grueling days—comes from years of waiting and believing.
“Ang tagal ko kasi pong hinintay ito, itong pagkakataon na ito.”
(“I waited a long time for this opportunity.”)
That waiting shaped his philosophy: success must ripple outward. “Kahit sa pamamagitan ng kwento lang, sa salita lang, malay mo may mabago akong buhay.”
(“Even through stories or words alone, maybe I can change a life.”)
Having entered the industry without financial backing, he understands what it means to be overlooked—and he refuses to forget it.
This awareness guides how he builds his casts. Coco deliberately creates space for veterans and newcomers alike, especially those once left behind. “Nakikita ko po ’yung sarili ko sa kanila. Alam naman natin dito sa Pilipinas, kulang sa opportunity.”
(“I see myself in them. We know that here in the Philippines, opportunities are limited.”)
He also prepares himself for the inevitability of decline with striking honesty. “Ngayon pa lang, as early as peak ng career ko, pinaghahandaan ko agad ’yung paglaos ko. Alam ko na, hindi ko dine-deny ’yan. Alam ko na mangyayari’t mangyayari ’yan.”
(“Even now, at the peak of my career, I am already preparing for my decline. I know it will happen, I am not denying it. It will happen.”)
His generosity is not sentimental—it is practical. “Bakit ko ipagkakait ’yung isang opportunity kung kaya ko naman ibigay? Kung magiging ito ’yung paraan para makatulong, bakit ko hindi gagawin? Kasi d’yan ako galing, at alam ko ’yung pakiramdam.”
(“Why would I withhold an opportunity if I can give it? If this is the way to help, why would I not do it? That is where I came from, and I know how it feels.”)
Before showbiz, he worked as a waiter, janitor, and dishwasher. The memory keeps him grounded.
Kindness, however, does not mean softness. On set, Coco is famously strict—and unapologetic about it. “Mahigpit po talaga ako. Sabihin na nilang corny, sabihin na nilang terror, o whatever, masama ugali.”
(“I am really strict. They can call me corny, a terror, or whatever—bad-tempered.”)
His reasoning is simple: accountability protects everyone. “Pero ’pag hindi natin pinagbuti, ’pag hindi natin sineryoso itong trabaho ito, ’pag bumagsak ang show natin o itong company natin, lahat tayo mawawalan ng trabaho… Oo, masungit ako. Bakit? Kasi seryoso ako sa buhay ko. Seryoso ako sa trabaho ko.”
(“If we do not do our best or take this work seriously, and the show or company fails, we all lose our jobs. Yes, I can be grumpy. Why? Because I am serious about my life. I am serious about my job.”)
Rules are clear. Cellphones, smoking, vaping, and idle gossip are not tolerated. When asked what happens to those who cross the line, his answer is blunt: “Tanggal.”
(“Removed.”)
He enforces it without exception. “Dalawa na ’yung natanggal ko,” he said—one for sowing gossip, another for watching videos during work hours. “Gano’n ako kaklaro. Bago ka pumasok sa akin, alam mo na ’yung rule… ’Pag hindi ko kasi pinanindigan at hindi ko ginawa ’yung sinabi ko, hindi ako rerespetuhin.”
(“That is how clear I am. Before you come in to work for me, you already know the rules. If I don't stand by and do what I said, I won't be respected.”)
Despite overseeing hundreds of episodes, Coco still speaks about creativity with wonder. “Hindi ko alam eh,” he laughed.
(“I do not know.”)
“Sabi ko, ’Ano ba ’yun?’ Pero no’ng na-experience ko na talaga siya… pupunta ako sa set or pupunta ako ng meeting na wala akong idea pero ’pag dinala mo na ako sa location, doon naglalabasan lahat.”
(“I said, 'What is it?' But when I experience it... I go to set or I go to a meeting without an idea, but when I get to the location, everything comes out.”)
He credits his indie film years for sharpening that instinct. Instead of resting between takes, he observed crews at work. “Hindi ko alam, natututunan ko na pala lahat. Parang nag-aaral ako.”
(“I did not realize I was already learning everything. It was like studying.”)
By the time he was trusted to direct and produce, the lessons were already there—quietly stored, ready to surface.
There is an ease to Coco Martin that draws people in. His story—marked by struggle, patience, and discipline—feels almost written for film. When asked who should portray him in a biopic, he names the actor he reveres most: Christopher de Leon. “Kaya kong sabihin na in love ako sa kanya,” he said.
(“I can say that I am in love with him.”)
“Sana balang araw, ’pag tumanda ako, kahit papaano, kahit kaunti, may makuha akong katangian niya bilang artista.”
(“I hope that one day, when I grow old, I can take even a small part of his qualities as an artist.”)
He also recognizes the strength of the next generation, naming Joshua Garcia and Kyle Echarri among many he admires. “Marami talagang magagaling ngayon.”
(“There are many talented artists today.”)
For the role of Julia, he sees Barbie Forteza, drawn to her natural charm and energy.
While he remains loyal to television as a vital lifeline for many Filipinos, Coco’s larger dream extends beyond platforms. It’s about support—real, structural, and lasting. “Nangangarap lang ako,” he said softly, “sana mayroong tao na umupo at sumuporta sa industriya in all aspect.”
(“I am just dreaming that someone will sit down and support the industry in all aspects.”)
In the end, Coco Martin’s story is not defined by noise or spectacle. It is built on discipline, memory, and a quiet belief that every opportunity carries responsibility. And perhaps that is why his journey, like the best films, continues to resonate long after the scene fades.